Title: iHate to Love You
Challenge: Put your iPod/mp3 on shuffle and write to what you hear
Song: #03 – Ice by Lights
Word Count: 518
Summary: Sam is an enigma, one he hates and loves and both curses the existence of and thanks whoever's listening for bringing her into his life.
iHate to Love You
He stares at her; she refuses to meet his eyes. He glares at her; she doesn't even acknowledge it. He insults her; she pretends she doesn't hear him. He wants to strangle her, shake her, kiss her.
Sam is an enigma, one he hates and loves and both curses the existence of and thanks whoever's listening for bringing her into his life.
He just wants a sign; just a look, a frown, a snap of an insult to his personality or his clothes, anything.
All he needs is a little emotion but all he sees is her not feeling, giving him nothing.
Finally, Carly leaves the room, muttering about tension and needing a drink. And she's standing there, playing with the ball-and-paddle toy Carly found and acting as though nothing is different, as if they aren't different. But they both know it is, they both heard him say he loved her and not Carly, and there's no avoiding it anymore.
So when the string snaps and the ball bounces away, she has no defense, nothing to put her attention on. He drops his camera to the table with a crash and then he's across the room, standing in front of her, his breathing heavy, a snarl on his mouth.
She stares at him, a cool expression on her face, the perfect image of icy carelessness.
"I hate you," he growls, and then his hand is in her hair, gripping long, blonde waves and dragging her forward. "Almost as much as I love you."
When his lips meet hers it's like all the tension in the world explodes, snaps, and he's drinking her in, searching for another explosion, another current of electricity that will bring him to life, burst inside of him and make him breathe again. Her fingers grip his shirt tight, curling into fists against his chest, and he almost expects her to beat against him, to shove him away, and quite possibly kick his ass. But then her hands slide up, around his neck, and she's pulling him closer, pressing her body full against his own. He drags in sharp gasps of air in between the slant of their lips, over and over, kissing her until he's dizzy.
They don't stop until Carly comes in the room, drops her glass on the floor in surprise. "Oops. Sorry. Um… Continue where you were!" she squeaks and then she's gone, and the moment follows.
Sam steps back, stares up at him with wide eyes like she's a deer caught in headlights and he wants to press rewind, go back to when it was just them and nothing else. But the mask is slipping back on, the unfeeling, could-care-less, Sam Puckett he despises; replacing the girl he knows loves him just as much as he does her.
She shrugs, whatever, and then she plops down in a beanbag and tucks her head back on her crossed arms, stares at the ceiling.
And Freddie Benson takes it, like always, until it'll all come to a head again and he'll take what he wants, what he deserves, what's meant to be.